


That Strength Which in Old Days

by Rynna_Aurelia



Series: The One Where Percy is a Magician of Questionable Competence [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Carter Kane, BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Sadie Kane, Crossover, End of the World, F/M, Final Battle, Gen, Gratuitous Penguins, Gratuitous Russian, Mentions of PTSD, Not Canon Compliant - Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Not Canon Compliant - The Serpent's Shadow, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynna_Aurelia/pseuds/Rynna_Aurelia
Summary: The world is ending, the House of Life is in the middle of a small civil war, and there's an enormous snake waiting to eat one of Percy's best friends and the god she hosts. In other words, a particularly terrifying Tuesday.“Show time,”he whispered to Carter, who raised the crook and flail as an odd sort of salute before they ran into the madness.
Relationships: Anubis/Sadie Kane/Walt Stone, Carter Kane/Zia Rashid, Jasmine "Jaz" Anderson & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Amos Kane, Percy Jackson & Carter Kane & Sadie Kane, Percy Jackson & Zia Rashid
Series: The One Where Percy is a Magician of Questionable Competence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572088
Comments: 97
Kudos: 218





	1. Idylls of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not, and will never be, Rick Riordan. Sadly, this means I don't own Percy Jackson.  
> Warnings: Life-threatening injuries, slightly-above canon violence levels, swearing. Beta'ed by thein273.

_“Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”_

_-Alfred, Lord Tennyson,_ Idylls of the King

* * *

From the sun boat of Ra, it was easy for Percy to see the path the rebel magicians had taken into the First Nome.

Wherever they had gone in deserted Giza was on fire.

The sphinx's entrance into the First Nome was smoking, the smoke curling around the sphinx like a jealous partner. Percy felt his gut twist and writhe as he realized the implications. _Amos. Leonid. The initiates._ Gods of Egypt, _Brooklyn House._

Vivid images of their friends and initiates— _Percy's gods-damned students, every one of them—_ bloodied and dying alone, refused to leave Percy’s mind.

They already had Ra with them, so Percy didn’t bother with a prayer. Any other high powers willing to take his calls weren’t going to keep the people he called family alive today. But _gods,_ he hoped.

Off to Percy’s right, Sobek was insulting all the mortals who had fled Giza to Sadie, who studied the entire scene below with her eyes glazed over—looking below their current layer of reality into the next. Recent news of Egypt flashed through Percy’s head: Strange natural disasters, ones out of season, ones far more vicious than they should have been, ones not seen in centuries tearing the desert apart. 

To be fair, he thought with more than a little hysteria, if Chaos decided to try and drive him out so its embodiment could swallow the sun in peace, he would take the hint, too.

 _However_. . .Percy concentrated for a second, focusing on that unnatural edge to the miasma of fear and panic tearing at his consciousness. A headache kicked up, but Percy ignored it as he gazed through the Duat to see the real state of things.

He let out a sharp exhaling when he saw the pyramids shaking, thanks to the living, swirling tornado of sand and darkness snaked around it, with the two burning pits for eyes and the lightning forking out from its maw. Then there was the tiny, stubborn figure of Bast fighting alone.

And the sensation of the land itself holding its breath.

“We will aid her, Perseus,” Ra promised from behind Percy, making him jump. It was the first time the sun god had addressed him directly; while he—they? Zia was still there—had spared Percy the looks of disgust and thinly veiled death threats, he hadn’t even acknowledged Percy’s existence when he’d been senile and cheerfully calling Walt _weasel._ “Apophis shall be kept occupied so that you and your comrades may save the House of Life from itself. You must defend the new pharaoh and oust the traitors.”

Said new pharaoh Carter Kane was taking the order to assume the throne of creation rather well, in Percy’s opinion. Looking a bit dazed, but that could just as easily spring from the fact that his girlfriend was about as much in the driver’s seat of her actions as Ra was right now.

“We’ll. . .we’ll do our best. We’ll stop Jacobi and Kwai,” Percy promised Ra, feeling unnerved in a way that had nothing to do with the imminent battle.

“I know the Kanes will. I am asking _you."_

With Ra’s burning gaze settled on him, Percy almost preferred being ignored. Or the death threats. Sobek threatening to rip his guts out and play with them had been the most relaxing part of the whole ride on the sun boat. It was better than feeling like he was caught blindfolded in interrogation with someone who would have few qualms with burning him alive.

Percy set his jaw. Two years on and this was still a thing and it was _ridiculous._

“Any and all offense intended, but I am a Kane,” Percy retorted, “I’m of the House of Life. I know you guys have had this weird hang-up about me since. . .gods, always, but Carter’s my best friend and good as my brother. Anyone getting to him is doing it over my dead body.”

Ra looked at him for a moment further, and Percy thought for a second he saw Zia in the god’s face, smiling with pride and relief. As if Percy had just passed some sort of test. On Ra’s part, Percy could’ve sworn there was something close to smugness in him as he declared, “Well said! To battle, Perseus Kane.”

* * *

They found Leonid first. Just outside the half-melted rubble surrounding the entrance to the First Nome—a particular tunnel that would leave them not too far from the Hall of Ages, Percy realized. Sarah Jacobi and her trigger-happy friends had clearly blasted their way in right before giving the Russian magician a painful, slow death.

He was slumped against the wall, hands pressed against the bloody shreds of his woolly jacket to try and keep it all in as he gasped for breath. When Leonid saw the three of them, his eyes briefly lit up before he looked too guilty for words. Anger, hot and hungry, burned in Percy's chest. He was barely a year older than Carter, and his only crimes were not killing Kanes on sight in St. Petersburg.

Sadie and Percy dropped down beside him as Carter kept watch, the three of them ignoring both the sounds of battle echoing down the hallway and Leonid’s weak protests in Russian. _“Nyet, nyet, druz’ya._ No time for me.”

“Shut up,” Sadie said absentmindedly as Percy began to mutter under his breath and pressed a gentle hand to Leonid’s gut; his friendship with Jaz counted for more than writing each other’s wills during siege, it would seem.

He hadn’t taken on Nephthys yet—and if the yelling, booms of explosions, and roars echoing their way were any indication, he would need to get over himself and do it soon—but he could still do this.

As Percy finished his patchwork healing job and Leonid’s gut began to grudgingly heal over, Carter unpacked their bags, and pulled out a small, red figurine that made Leonid go even grayer than he already was. “My gods, is that the snake’s—”

“The genuine article,” Sadie replied grimly as she took it from Carter. “Sure went to enough trouble for it.”

Percy shuddered; he could count on one hand with fingers the spare how many times he had gone into the Duat during his waking hours, and after their trip to the Sea of Chaos, it was safe to say he was good for the rest of his life. 

_After Sadie’s portal dropped the two of them onto Setne’s head, Percy got to his feet, took a good look at the sight around him, and nearly vomited from the Chaos-induced nausea._

_He had braced himself for it. Land of the Demons and the Sea of Chaos was about as close to a pure hellscape as could be found in the Duat, and Chaos sickness was no joke. But what Percy saw made something deep and primal in him shake._

_“Hello, Zia. Brother dear. Need some help?” Sadie asked with a cold smile directed at Setne. The dead magician looked like he had his hand caught in a magical cookie jar, with Zia and Carter bound and struggling beneath him, the Book of Thoth in hand, and—gods, that was Apophis’s **sheut** struggling in the Sea, and the Sea was. . .no. **“Tas!”**_

_This was wrong. So, so wrong._

_“Not now! No—” Setne yelled. The Seven Ribbons of Hathor cut him off as they wrapped around him from the toes on up, until Percy could only see his angry eyes peaking out between the pink ribbons._

_With Setne helpless, Percy leaned against the obelisk, letting its sense of peace and Ma'at steady him on his feet. Zia and Carter got up besides him, newly-unbound. They stared out at the Sea of Chaos while Percy tried desperately to ignore it, fighting that insistent siren call to just. . .give up._

_What did four teenagers mean in the grand scheme of things, anyways? Why should they fight and suffer for nothing? Why should Zia and the Kanes even be here, when Apophis was prophesied to swallow Ra?_

_Defeat was inevitable, a kind voice whispered in Percy’s ear. Why fight fate? Why not lie down and let things take their course?_

_Percy pressed his palm to his forehead and shook himself all over, trying to clear his head. They were in this hellscape to save the gods-damned world. The banishment was going to work. Prophecy could go and drop itself into the Sea._

_And Apophis needed to get **out** of his **head.** Surrender by another name was still surrender, and Percy really did like existing, fights to the death aside._

_“What’s even out there, Perce?” Carter wondered as they turned their backs to Chaos. “Besides the mist and lava and water and primordial soup stuff.”_

_Percy looked at him in jealous surprise. “You can’t tell?”_

It hadn’t been right. The not-ocean before them—it had done a good job imitating the part, but Percy had seen through it. The Sea of Chaos wasn’t the right name for it, and even labeling it as anything beyond Chaos or Carter’s _primordial soup stuff_ wasn’t what Percy had seen.

To be honest, Percy figured seeing the Sea of Chaos for what it _really_ was would drive him insane. But he hadn't seen a malevolent body of Chaos water. That would’ve implied order of some kind, rather than some barely constrained mass of the raw material gods and magic were made from, wearing away at the small isle of Ma’at. 

Leonid grasped Percy’s left wrist, snapping him out of the memory. “I. . .I think you have done as much as you should. Go. I will live yet.”

Percy gave him a dubious look, but the decision was made for him when someone’s _shabti_ lion decided to bound the corner and only Sadie’s reflexes kept it from taking a bite out of someone. Carter raised his eyebrows at Percy. “End of the world waits for no one. Ready?”

Percy scowled. He had _sworn_ he was never doing this again. Thrown the stupid amulet into the East River and everything. But as soon as the thought entered his head, a particularly loud _boom_ echoed down the hallway. Dust came down from the trembling ceiling.

But it was the too-familiar screams of people Percy knew and loved that sealed it.

He dug the amulet out of his bag and braced himself. Three deep breaths.

One to center himself and his identity as _Percy._

Another to remind himself that he was no longer thirteen and as likely to brain himself with his own wand as he was to take out his opponent.

A third one to bite down on any paralyzing fear.

Divine power and his brand of humanity remained a great mix—like a Molotov cocktail. Percy just hoped. . .well, surviving might be a bit too much to ask. Going out in tactically useful blazes of glory was probably the most he could hope for.

Percy closed his eyes, slipped the amulet of Nephthys over his head. Welcomed the sensation of something being on fire and sliding down his spine.

_You again._

It was so nice to be missed. _Long time no see. My lady._

 _This will not end well,_ she warned, and it was the passing caution for his well-being that kept Percy from putting any actual bite into his snark. _You were never meant for this._

_Never said I had good judgment._

Percy felt the divine power, burning and bright and eager for the order, spark along his fingers. He grinned to himself, more than a little madly.

 _“Show time,”_ he whispered to Carter, who raised the crook and flail as an odd sort of salute before they ran into the madness.

* * *

The too-small hallway and the battle within it had exactly one thing going for it: It wasn’t near as overwhelming as Percy’s first battle at the Red Pyramid had been. Less to take in and analyze.

The rebel magicians were defending the entrance to the Hall of Ages, with Brooklyn House and what was left of the First Nome trying to get past them; the obvious absence of Sarah Jacobi, Kwai, and their lieutenants, along with Amos, was very easy math for Percy to do. He set his jaw and shoved down the useless, leaden fear forming in his stomach. Amos was Chief Lector. Most powerful magician in the world. He had Set on his side and while Percy had his feelings about fucking around with _that,_ Set was still one of the more powerful gods.

Amos would be okay. He would, Percy insisted to the part of him that was still a child.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, he was drawn into battle. A magician yelling in Russian charged at Percy, staff and sword raised in the air. Percy didn’t blink before hurling his wand like a boomerang to disarm them, followed by a quick spell to bind the magician and knock them unconscious. Without pause, Percy brought his staff up, swinging it over his head to send two more magicians headed his way flying backwards; Nephthys put a Divine Word into his mouth and Percy turned their weapons into grey dust.

As he waded forward through the chaos, the cacophony of yelled spells, curses, and clanging of weaponry bounced off the white walls until it all rang in his ears. No one else immediately challenged Percy with the power of the river goddess radiated from him as a warning, so he took quick stock on his initiates. As he chanced a look around after turning a vaguely familiar English magician-turned-enemy into a hamster, he grinned with pride.

Alyssa was handling her opponent with ease, turning their attacks into dust and rubble. With a snap of the fingers, she turned the floor beneath them into quicksand, burying them up to the neck. Jaz gave Percy a thumbs-up in the chaos as she was tending to a smug Cleo, who had a leg broken in two places; Percy had a feeling the large copy of _David Copperfield_ besides Cleo used to be the magician responsible.

Felix looked far too happy setting his penguins on his enemies.

“Attack!” he howled, followed by a command in Egyptian that Percy didn't recognize. His small army of penguins, aided by the carpet of ice Felix had conjured, fell upon the three rebels Felix was facing, stealing their wands, tearing at their clothes, and being surprisingly effective against enemy _shabti._ Still, Felix’s opponents held their line.

At least, until their breath began to turn to frost with another word from Felix. A biting cold wind better suited to North America than the edge of the Egyptian desert swirled through the hallway and around the rebels, becoming faster and more vicious until they were caught in a small tornado.

And then Percy saw the ice creeping up their legs.

Felix began to turn his opponents into snowmen, while Percy ducked a blast of lightning, then blocked a wild swing of the khopesh from Carter’s current opponent with a hasty shield.

 _Perhaps you can be proud of your students after you rescue the Chief Lector and do your best to not send us both back into the Duat?_ Percy rolled his eyes and re-focused on fighting his way into the Hall of Ages. 

Carefully, he began to yield more ground to Nephthys, letting her guide his instincts. Duck, cast spell to shatter a rebel magician's _shabti_ rhino, turn his own staff into a sword to tag-team Carter to help take down the swordsman who nearly killed Julian, move closer to the Hall of Ages, ignore the beginning of a tell-tale feverish burn. Repeat with variations. 

Two fire elementalists set his hair and shirt on fire before Percy managed to conjure a whirlpool out of nothing, chanting furiously as he doused them in freezing water before sending them falling down it into the Duat. The minute they were gone, he manipulated the water with a twist of the wrist and gut, sending it flying down the hallway for Felix to use as more ice and snow.

If Percy ignored the metaphorical timer Nephthys had counting down until his blood would turn to fire, his bones to sand, and his cousins could bury what was left of him in a match box, the power coursing through him felt fantastic. Always did, in the moment.

Any worries over his magical limits disappeared when, out of literal nowhere, a flying wand to the jaw sent Percy staggering. Hot pain lanced across his jawbone and cheeks as his staff was knocked out of his hand, and he looked up in time to throw his own wand, nearly stopping when he saw a familiar face. Then Percy swung with his fists, and the ensuing fight ended with him flipping the former head of Madrid's Nome down some stairs _—which,_ Percy realized with vicious satisfaction, would officially swing the numbers in their favor.

His gaze swung to the rebel magicians defending the sealed door to the Hall of Ages. Walt had trapped the four remaining in small canopic jars, shrinking them with a wave of his hand. Percy blinked, and he saw Anubis in place of Walt, smirking in satisfaction.

Percy pulled himself off the ground, grabbing his staff and wand on the way up. He ducked—a flying metal pig?—before Sadie made it explode into smoking shreds of copper, running to join Walt. Carter, still in his ten-foot-tall combat avatar, joined them, sending the last two rebel magicians defending the door flying with a push.

With no one immediately attacking them, Walt pressed his hands to the door and Percy matched the move, unsure of what he was looking for—until he felt a tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers and the door collapsed into dust beneath their hands.

Percy didn’t need to look over his shoulders or hear Sadie give Walt an appreciative _well done_ to know his cousins were hot on his heels as they charged into the Hall of Ages. 

They stopped short, paralyzed by what they saw: Amos, cocooned in the strangest and possibly most terrifying avatar Percy had ever seen.

Only vaguely human, it was made of fire and swirling red sand with lightning flashing through it, carrying a ten-foot iron staff. If Percy looked deeper, he could see Set laughing delightedly in the Duat as he deflected any and attacks with ease, egging a visibly strained Amos on: to do something more permanent to the rebels, make it _hurt._

“Come now, Amos, let me have some real fun here to help you out. Crush at least one of these puny souls. None of them are even dead yet!”

The rebel magicians circling around Amos, on their part, seemed to be regretting their decision to lock themselves in a room with the Chief Lector and the god of strength and Chaos.

“He’s lost,” Jaz whispered, her face pale as she watched Set’s avatar hurl a magician across the room, “Set’s. . .I’m so sorry, _Percy—”_

“No! He’s fine. He’s controlling Set,” Carter insisted. Sadie was frozen still, her eyes locked onto the rebel magicians, but Percy could tell that her attention was inward. Isis.

Turning to his own goddess before Kwai or Jacobi noticed, and feeling like he was thirteen all over again, Percy asked quietly, _Nephthys? Is he. . ._

A moment passed. Percy felt like he was thirteen again: burning up from the inside with godly power and silly with fear as he was left so, so alone in the world. Another beat. Carter and Sadie began to spread the initiates out to take on the enemy squad.

Percy began to wonder what he could possibly do against the man as good as his fa—

_No. He is not lost._

It wasn’t so much as a _sigh_ as it was Percy nearly collapsing in on himself with relief. Amos was there. They didn’t have to add one more fight to the list.

Sadie’s gaze snapped to him. _“Nephthys.”_

 _I would know. Amos Kane is in control._ Nephthys was reluctant, but sure in her pronouncement and grudging respect. _The Chief Lector has managed to rein my husband in for the time being. Somehow._

“He’s there, she says,” Percy said shakily, “Set’s not—he’s not—”

 _Not possessed again,_ he finished silently. It was one thing to know that Amos was going to try and call on Set to win this fight. It was another to _see_ it.

“Right. Bloody hell,” Sadie breathed, running a hand through her hair and glaring at nothing in particular—or maybe a goddess in particular. “Bloody gods of Egypt. Bloody _Isis._ I’ll alert the others. Take the right and watch Walt’s back—and for Jacobi’s knives.”

“Gotcha.”

Percy followed Walt, ducking behind a column and keeping a wary eye on Jacobi as she flew around the avatar Amos was channeling, a pair of netjeri knives in her hands. With a swing of the iron staff, Set flung Kwai across the room. Unfortunately, the bald magician caught himself before he crashed into the magical curtains of light lining the walls.

He sprang back to his feet, and it took Nephthys’s instincts for Percy to raise a shield in time before he was electrocuted by red lightning.

“Hello!” Percy said brightly. “Don’t suppose you feel like surrendering?”

 _“You,”_ Kwai growled, “I’ve heard the rumors about you. You’re the _unnatural_ one.”

He began to chant a spell that would’ve sent Nephthys into the nearest river and likely killed Percy from the shock, but before he could get beyond the initial binding chant, Percy slammed his staff to the ground. The resulting blast of power sent Kwai backwards into the curtain of light from the Roman Empire; he came down unconscious with his robes smoking.

“Sweet unnatural dreams,” Percy snarked. He remembered what happened when he stumbled into the Industrial Revolution as a kid. Nightmares for _days._

He ducked an errant spell from the air elementalist Sadie was dueling in a corner, looking around for someone he could help.

Percy turned around in time to have the biggest _shabti_ scorpion he had ever seen thrown at his face by a laughing Sarah Jacobi from her storm cloud. Percy hit the floor, swearing all the way as it sailed over his head, expanding to the size of a large dog. On the ground, it promptly skittered back towards him with its tail high enough to meet Percy’s hip, the stinger dripping with venom, eating away at the wooden floor wherever it fell. Percy backed up on instinct, scrabbling for his wand.

An old memory of Serket flashed through Percy’s head, his heartbeat raced with terror that had never quite gone away, and he half-wished he had Hathor’s Seven Ribbons on him.

But before he could much more than wave his wand threateningly and throw one of the nastier curses he knew in the direction of Jacobi, it crumbled into dust. Walt stepped through the collapsing _shabti_ and gave Percy a hand up. Percy could see Anubis giving a small relieved smile in the Duat and felt a wave of gratitude from Nephthys. _Thank you, son._

“No problem, Mom,” Walt muttered. His eyes immediately went wide as he processed what he said, looking like he was about to conjure up a chasm to disappear through.

“Thanks for the save, man, but can you please not call me mother?” Percy asked dryly.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

Percy looked over Walt’s shoulder to spot everyone else beofre his eyes widened and he shoved Walt to the ground. He conjured a shield to defend them both from a wave of golden flames, then spent a lot of his self-control on keeping Nephthys from doing anything worse than leaving the magician who cast it half-drowned, unarmed, and hog-tied. Then three more magicians turned their attention to the two of them, throwing a series of spells that Percy _just_ deflected with the tip of his wand.

When he was cut off from Walt by a sudden spike of rock between them, Nephthys began to press for control. She could _end_ it, she insisted. Turn their enemies to ash, save the rest of them, and leave the House of Life free to battle the real enemy. Percy tried to ignore her, not wanting to die in the name of a goddess's control issues, and the connection between the two of them began to fracture.

_Isis and Horus will leave him if we do not win soon._

_Don’t care. Sadie and Carter would never._

_Apophis is the true enemy, and who is Chief Lector is not a matter that concerns them. Not as long as Horus holds the throne._

_Don't. Care.  
_

They’d never been a great pair last time, and it didn’t take much to turn a god’s Eye back into a normal magician and the god grudgingly in their head.

Percy grit his teeth as Nephthys grew frustrated with his insistence on limits, and the shield protecting him began to falter, shaking as his opponent—Thoth’s beak, Percy _remembered_ him; Rupert was a stuffy French air elementalist who had never liked Percy as a child—broke his shield with a well-timed Divine Word. It shattered around Percy and left him breathless. He reached up to try and bring his staff down, turn it into something with enough teeth to buy him time to recover and tell Nephthys to _get over herself,_ when Rupert spat out another spell, and Percy was suddenly airborne.

He fell flat on his back beneath Jacobi, feeling like a battering ram had just knocked all the air out of him. The woman looked down at him as he struggled for breath, grinned, and Percy knew she saw his mortality in that moment.

But she didn’t kill him. Instead, she called out to a recovered Kwai and her followers, “Now! Cast the bonds now!”

Percy had enough time to look up at Jaz nearby. They shared wide-eyed looks as a bolt of pure terror went through Percy’s body like a chill.

Everything up until then had just been an assault to wear down Amos and the First Nome. Explained how Amos had held them off so easily until Brooklyn House had broken in. Certainly explained why Jacobi—who had been sentenced to Antarctica for creating a natural disaster that killed over a thousand people—had stuck to small-scale stuff.

Kwai conjured enough lightning at Amos that the taste of metal was flat on Percy's tongue. The sandstorm that made up the red avatar began to dissipate. Jacobi’s minions drew magic ropes out of nowhere and lashed them around his legs and arms. Set roared in futile rage, Amos staggered to the ground, and Percy’s heart was in his throat as he tried to will something from Nephthys, _anything._

When Carter interfered, pulling at the ropes in his flickering avatar, Jacobi threw a knife at a gap in his protective shielding. For a brief, horrifying moment, Percy thought he was going to watch his cousin die. 

Then the connection between him and Nephthys surged once more. He flung out his hand on instinct. The avatar surged around Carter in a flash of light. The _netjeri_ knife fell to the floor. Carter’s avatar went out completely and he collapsed, before climbing back to his feet and talking angrily at air.

_I warned you. Isis and Horus have their eyes on the snake. The House of Life will endure only if we win, regardless of who is Chief Lector._

Percy clenched his jaw, his eyes still locked on Carter. _Do. Not. Care._

Sadie tried to cast a spell as Jacobi’s followers tightened the ropes on Amos until only a thin red shield protected him, but it kept fizzling out in her hands. Sarah Jacobi threw Sadie against a tapestry of light without missing a beat. She came down semi-conscious and groaning. One of their anklebiters began to shriek, “Stop it! Just _stop_ it, you’re hurting them!”

Jacobi snorted. She walked up to Amos, yanked his head back and pressed a knife against Amos’s neck. “Enough, then! _Enough,_ Kanes. This ends now.”

Percy froze. He didn’t dare breathe, like he was the one with a knife against his throat.

Brooklyn House faltered. Julian and Alyssa gathered the initiates to their sides as the rebel magicians watched them warily. Percy saw Felix look at him expectantly, if not frantically—like he was confused the Kanes hadn’t fixed the whole thing by now. Jaz shifted to Percy’s side, and he let her pull him up. But the question was in her eyes: _What are you doing?_

They were teenagers. Kids. For most of them, this was their first rodeo, and Jacobi was exploiting that ruthlessly.

If the world hadn’t been ending, Percy might’ve been a bit impressed. It was a good plan.

“Hello,” Kwai sneered at Percy, flying back in from wherever he'd recovered, “Don’t suppose you feel like surrendering?”

 _Then again._ Percy did not, actually, have to give the magicians aiding Apophis and trying to kill Amos credit for anything. Murderous rage was just fine. Ignoring how shallow his breathing was thanks to raw panic and bruised ribs, Percy glared up at him. “I feel like breaking your face.”

Nephthys must’ve agreed with him, because he managed to throw his wand right through Kwai’s shields. It didn’t turn him into anything, but the howls of pain and Kwai crashing back into the bronze curtain of light, collapsing into a smoking heap against the wall, made Percy feel a bit less hopeless.

The cold gleam in Sarah Jacobi’s eyes as her attention switched to him made the hair on Percy’s neck stand on end. She may have been exiled for the hurricane, but he had been in the First Nome enough to hear rumors. The hurricane was just what she’d been caught for. Much crueler things had happened and he'd been warned a _lot_ to stay away from her as a child.

“I had wished to give all who surrendered amnesty, but perhaps not,” Jacobi commented, staring down at Percy, “Perhaps some. . .prudent pruning of the tree is in order, hmm?”

At this, Set decided to add his commentary from where Amos was trapped. Amos gave a pained grimace as Set spoke through him. “I wouldn’t do that. Amos might actually let me do something _fun._ And, of course, it would be bad form if I let my wife lose her. . .ah, unorthodox host in times like these.”

“We don’t take orders from you,” Jacobi scoffed, “For shame, Kanes. To see that this is what the path of the gods has brought you: _Set_ in the Hall of Ages. It’s an abomination.”

“I try to do something _nice,_ Amos, and I get called names?”

A quick command from Jacobi had the bonds tightening around Amos and Set, and the shield around Amos thinning even further. Percy yelled in protest, but with two staffs pointed at him and Nephthys still not on the same page with him, he couldn’t do much of anything until someone summoned a distraction.

One of her minions stepped forward from the mass of rebel magicians facing Brooklyn House, her soft drawl echoing through the hall. “It’s time this ended. No more of this godly worship. No more of the misery the Kanes seem so determined to bring down on us. Give it up, children. Sarah will give you amnesty as the new Chief Lector, then we shall defeat Apophis together.”

“Defeat Apophis?” Sadie repeated, incredulous, “You and Kwai and Jacobi are working with him!”

Jacobi’s nostrils flared. The cold gleam in her eyes turned on Percy’s cousin. _“Treason.”_

She lifted the knife from Amos’s throat. 

“And there is only one thing to do with _that,_ godling.”

Quick as a striking snake, she turned around and hurled the netjeri knife at Sadie, who raised her wand slowly. Too slowly.

Carter and Percy screamed.

Percy reached out physically and magically, pulling on a reluctant Nephthys on the off-chance that _maybe_ he could get there in time—

 _—_ _because after his_ _mother, Aunt Ruby, Uncle Julius, Percy wasn’t adding to that list—_

—And Walt stepped in.

Snatched the meteoric iron out of thin air. It crumbled to dust in his bare hand, just like the door he and Percy had destroyed. He stood protectively in front of Sadie, and being face-to-face with a death god and his host seemed to make Jacobi wary.

“Who are you?” Jacobi demanded, the barest trace of fear entering her voice. “What are—”

“Walt Stone, blood of the pharaohs, and Anubis, god of the dead. And we speak with one voice on all things, but especially this matter: _No one_ harms Sadie Kane.”

Percy couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Walt anywhere near this angry. Or, Percy amended as he worked through a blazing headache to get a better look at things, if he’d ever seen Anubis like this.

 _She made his host angry,_ Nephthys thought, amused beyond words. _And short of enlisting his father, she could not have enraged Anubis further. Teenagers._

Walt spread his hands out wide. A chasm in the floor opened up around Jacobi. Ghostly, skeletal souls of the dead crawled up from the depths. They fell onto Jacobi, who began to scream as they wrapped her with linen. She struggled, but the spirits summoned were merciless, dragging her back down with them into the dark and only the gods knew where. Another wave of Walt’s hands, and the chasm closed, with not even a scar on the floor as proof that Sarah Jacobi was ever there.

No one from the rebels moved to take Jacobi's place. Amos began to shake off the rope, Walt pulled a shaken Sadie to her feet, and Carter moved his way to the front of the hall, climbing the dais to stand in front of the empty throne. Despite looking like he’d been electrocuted and then dumped into a bloody brawl to the death, Carter held his head high, looking like he’d been born to carry the crook and flail in his hands. 

“Magicians!” he yelled, his voice booming throughout the Hall of Ages, “We have no time to waste. In the world above, brave gods are holding back our true enemy, the snake Apophis, for our sake. For _Egypt’s_ sake. Jacobi and Kwai led you astray. Unbind the Chief Lector, and let us truly stand as one, and win this battle for the dawn!”

Brooklyn House let out a cheer, their younger initiates looking grim but confident once more. The rebel magicians were muttering amongst themselves; Percy could see Kwai getting up in the corner. He nudged Jaz, and before Kwai could do more than conjure some red hieroglyphs, his face shifting into something more serpentine, Jaz had him out cold with her staff and turned into a marmot.

“Red hieroglyphs,” Jaz spat in disgust while she held marmot-Kwai at arm’s length, “Of _course.”_

The woman from earlier who had encouraged them to surrender earlier let out a choked, wounded sound, pointing at Jaz and her captive. “Kwai? Using _Chaos magic?_ But he promised—”

“Promised _nothing._ You were betrayed, Charlotte. Betrayed and manipulated by forces as old as the sun,” Amos corrected. The ropes binding him and Set had fallen away and Amos had risen to his feet, red sand swirling around his white robes. But any doubts left that Set was in control were long gone: The Chief Lector Amos Kane stood before them. “All of you. Jacobi and Kwai never worked for anything but Chaos and Apophis. But if you are willing, the House of Life will still have you. Fight alongside us.”

Some rebel magicians still looked murderous, and Percy could see Sadie taking note of the faces. Those were the ones who had likely known exactly what had been living in Kwai. But the rest of them. . .

Charlotte looked shame-faced. Rupert had the expression of someone who had smelled something foul, but crossed over to where Amos stood, followed by most of the younger rebel magicians.

“. . .Chief Lector,” he said. The title sounded like someone had drawn each word out of his mouth by force. “Our loyalty lies with the House of Life, and the upholding of Ma’at.”

“So mote it be,” Amos finished. “Welcome back, Beauregard. Don’t try to kill my ward again.” 

Percy snickered. Amos turned around to Carter—Carter, who hosted Horus and now held the Egyptian throne of creation in the most boring part of the day so far. “Carter. You are blood of the pharaohs and Eye of Horus. You wield Ra’s given crook and flail, and the throne is yours. Will you lead us all, gods and magicians, against the enemy?”

“The throne will keep," Carter said, with a wary look at the empty chair in question, "For now, Ra and Egypt need our help on the surface. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

As everyone around him shouted in assent, Percy suspected only he and Sadie could tell that any doubt and fear was whirling in Carter’s mind. The confidence and strength he projected made him look more like his ancestor King Ramesses II than a teenage magician out of Brooklyn. “Uncle, I need you to bring the rest of the magicians to the surface as quickly as possible. Horus and I will summon the rest of the gods to war.”

“As you command.” Amos turned to all of them, former rebels, Brooklyn House, and First Nome survivors alike, raising his staff. The hieroglyphs that manifested in the air around him as the Chief Lector blazed with power. “The House of Life, to me!”

* * *

Things were more or less going to plan with stopping the apocalypse until Apophis broke reality.

Amos’s path out of the First Nome had put them halfway up Khafre’s pyramid, watching as Apophis—the part of him out of the ground, anyway—twisted himself around a towering pyramid until he blanketed out half the sky. When Percy had tilted his head back, trying to pick Apophis’s head out of the dark storm clouds swirling above them, the gods already fighting him looked like pinpricks of light in comparison to the all-consuming firestorm that made up the snake.

Their attacks connected, but Apophis barely seemed to notice as he roared and flared his cobra crest, the one Word no magician would ever write blazed across his chest: _Isfet._ Chaos.

Carter had summoned the gods as Horus’s Eye, the sky breaking in two to let them descend upon their enemy. The storm clouds had parted with a clap of thunder that left Percy’s ears ringing, and the Egyptian gods went to battle, more of them than Percy could count riding war chariots, some on gargantuan floating warships that could crush a small village, and even more riding the backs of giant falcons and hawks. Babi, the baboon god who had attacked Sadie in London last year, landed on top of one of the pyramids, howling and pounding his chest.

A wave of cold derision rippled through the air. And then Apophis _fractured._

Percy’s world went upside-down, sideways, and then tumbling around in the space of a second as Apophis wove his way in and out of the Duat. Splinters of the snake’s power were in every layer between the gods and the House of Life. Warping the distance, warping time, and making them doubt what they saw unless they were ready for it. Percy, Sadie, and Carter had to cling to each other for dear life to not be separated, let alone know left from right.

As they linked hands to forge a path towards Apophis, their respective hosted gods shielding them from the warped reality around them, Percy could see everyone around them separate, trapped with a fragment of Apophis’s power trying to kill them. He could see Amos and Julian on top of each other—each in a different layer of the Duat and fighting two versions of Apophis’s head, and _holy Nut’s children,_ Julian had finally managed the combat avatar—while Walt was trapped at the base of the pyramid, Apophis coiled around him and squeezing.

Felix and Alyssa were fighting back to back at what seemed to be nothing, shouting command words at thin air; Jaz had called on Sekhmet to conjure some sort of flaming creature to attack a version of Apophis’s tail. Nearby her—probably, but “nearby” in the Duat could be six inches or six miles—Serket turned into an enormous scorpion right out of Percy’s nightmares, dueling yet another version of Apophis’s tail with her stinger in a very weird sword fight.

And then there was Zia Rashid, the Eye of Ra, Lord of the Sun. Golden light blazed about her as she stood between Apophis and the desert. When they had first emerged out of the First Nome, it had been hard to locate her, or even _look_ at her directly, as the fire she conjured around her flickered like a Roman candle. Apophis would strike, seeking to swallow Ra and Zia whole, but he would always be several feet off.

But she was tired and alone. Just like the rest of them. When Percy looked deeper, all of their auras were growing weaker, while the darkness of Apophis’s power continued to grow, just waiting to swallow _all_ of them whole. 

As Percy, Sadie, and Carter drew nearer to her, they could hear her chanting, summoning wave after wave of fire to beat back her enemy. Her light shimmered off in the distance, like Percy was looking for a lighthouse at sea. Apophis was beginning to look more solid as well. His scales glistened; the lightning lancing through Apophis’s form left spots in Percy’s vision; and the weight of his voice was becoming harder to ignore.

“Almost there!” Carter shouted. His eyes hadn't left his girlfriend since he brought the gods, and worry over Zia strained his face as much as trying not to be killed by Apophis.

 _Too late, magicians. Too late._ Apophis struck again, taking a bite out of the desert. Zia’s light flickered. Percy could see her form now, dressed in the white silk and golden jewelry of an Egyptian princess, with a gilded staff in her hand and scarab amulet blazing on her chest. _Ra will be my breakfast on this last morning._

She was so close.

Percy looked to Sadie and Carter; they wouldn’t need Percy for the actual banishing. The two of them had practiced the spell for weeks, and Sadie had the _sheut._

The desert shook beneath their feet with the force of Apophis striking again. 

Percy looked back. Zia’s light ever-so-briefly flickered out.

Percy grit his teeth, and before Nephthys could read his thoughts, drew on as much power as he could from her, embracing the feverish burn.

 _Don’t you dare, Perseus. Do not even **think** it._ Percy didn’t bother acknowledging Nephthys. He turned to Sadie and Carter, and shouted over the roar of Apophis, “I’m going to help her! Buy you guys time for the spell!”

Before his cousins could do more than look at him in shock, Percy let go of Sadie’s hand. The effect was immediate. Without the physical connection, the Duat splintered further around them, and Percy, for a brief second, felt like he was falling in place.

 _Go back. Go back right now, boy._ Percy didn’t have the concentration for words as he tumbled, so he just let her see a memory of him and Zia from years ago, sitting on a terrace at Brooklyn House and watching the stars, along with the general impression of _she’s-my-friend-no-way-be-helpful-or-don’t-but-I- **won’t** -leave-her—_

A magician and a god couldn’t disagree and remain an Eye. The minute reality solidified again for him, the connection between him and Nephthys broke.

Percy grimaced as his shields began to falter. Without the ability to sustain protection on his own, the warped reality began to tear at him like he was caught naked in a sandstorm. It might’ve been only inches separating him from Zia, but it sure didn’t feel like it as he trudged forward, doing everything he could to not get distracted or caught in another layer of the Duat.

The fire around her had continued to fade. It was now barely more than a pilot light as Apophis’s power swirled around her, tearing at Ra’s fire and closing in.

 _This is the prophecy. It was always going to end like this. Perseus Jackson, do not—_ Percy shut Nephthys out. 

He could Zia’s face now; could see her lip curled with hatred for Apophis, the way her arms were shaking from the power she was channeling, and golden tears falling down her cheeks from the doomed effort.

The snake was getting closer, Sadie and Carter weren’t there yet, and Apophis knew it. His voice hummed in Percy’s ears, something he couldn’t have blocked out if he tried. _It is over, magicians. You cannot cheat destiny._

 _Perseus, let Horus and Isis do as they will. Do not—_ Percy was pretty sure this was the first time in history a goddess wanted to talk to a human like this. He focused on the disagreement between them, breaking their connection up as an Eye beyond repair. Nephthys was so shocked she didn’t press for control, to try and completely take over his body to stop him.

Percy took another step, and nearly fell over as he left the storm of Chaos for the peaceful eye of the hurricane. Apophis—his true form, solid and glistening and blocking out the sky—rose before him as he hurried to where Zia stood.

He could feel the heat radiating off her as she and Ra turned to look at him, their heads cocked at the same angle and jaws dropping in unison as they spoke in a two-tone voice. _“Perseus._ What are you—”

They broke off to lob another fireball at Apophis, but it didn’t faze the snake this time. Its chuckle rumbled the ground, the dark, inhuman noise rolling through the air. _It is time, Ra. My Age has come, and non-existence will be your fate._

Time seemed to slow.

Percy knew what he needed to do.

He turned on a dime. In a single fast move, he raised his staff, spoke a single command word. Zia and Ra were blasted backwards, back into the storm, back where he knew Sadie and Carter to be, where he could see the aura of Bast and Bes. They would protect them.

Percy fell to his knees.

He began to cough up crimson onto the sand, the world tilting around him as the feverish burn that had accompanied him for hours became all-consuming. Apophis roared something he couldn’t quite make out.

Nephthys’s voice blasted through Percy’s mind, truly panicked now. _Percy—_

The last thing Percy would ever hear was a goddess screaming at him to save his own life.

As he looked up, trying to find any light in the endless storm that was the sky, he supposed he should feel honored.

_**Demigod—** _

Apophis struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, I swore this one was going to be a one-shot. In related news, I really like the sound of my own voice. I also lie a lot. 
> 
> For the curious, Leonid’s Russian _(«Нет, нет, друзья»,_ or _"nyet, nyet, druz’ya")_ translates to _"No, no, friends."_ And, before Silena Beauregard's wiki page gets a deluge of curious people, there's not a secret canon paternal uncle I pulled out.
> 
> I also swore— _swore_ —I wasn't posting this until I got something further down the line down. It is my beta's fault for enabling my lack of self-control and giving y'all a cliffhanger. Please direct your complaints at them. Love you, darling.


	2. Ulysses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not, and will never be, Rick Riordan. Sadly, this means I don't own Percy Jackson.  
> Warnings: Temporary character death, life-threatening injuries, slightly-above canon violence levels, swearing.

_“Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”_

_-James Joyce,_ Ulysses

* * *

Percy tumbled through Chaos with no goddess to cling to. No shield to keep him alive.

Everything hurt. Everything was _tearing_ at him.

Wearing away, cutting and dissolving and never-ending. But all he could think of, unable to even scream as he fell, was that he _won._ Because it wasn't supposed to be _him._

 _You cannot cheat destiny._ Percy would've laughed, if he wasn't already in enough pain to leave him blind. _Just watch me. Fucker._

There wouldn’t be Aalu. Or even a weighing of the scales, a hug from Uncle Julius and Aunt Ruby, confirmation that he had done the right thing, and that everyone would be okay. No rest in Paradise.

Percy wished he could’ve taken that bravely. Just let the end come. Being swallowed by the embodiment of Chaos wasn't great for fear or regrets. 

But with one of his best and oldest friends _safe_ and Percy in something beyond hell. . .he wasn't feeling very courageous. Didn't have to pretend sheer terror wasn't spreading, all-consuming and freezing, through him down to his toes.

It wasn't like anyone would ever know, anyway. He could wish for his mom.

He really would’ve liked to have seen her again. Somehow. To have given Carter and Sadie and Amos and Zia and everyone a good-bye that was more than nothing.

But he didn’t regret the choice to get him here either _—_ wherever _here_ was _—_ and that was sort of the whole problem.

Gods of Egypt, Sadie was going to have _words_ for him at his funeral.

So Percy just curled himself up and tried not to scream into the void too much.

And then there was _it—_

Not death or even darkness, or the sensation of pain _—_

 _—_ beyond the world, and he suddenly couldn’t _remember—_

—And for a moment, he **_wasn’t—_**

* * *

_You are bringing him back? The Kanes seem rather distraught._

_I am trying. But I am far from Osiris, and if it wasn’t destroyed, his soul may be well on its way to Aalu—_

_Are we really so terribly sure of that?_

**_Yes._ ** _And if not, it means little._

_How humanly naïve of you._

_Shut up, Father._

_Very human. Get to it, Anubis. Amos Kane would never forgive me if I prevented you from yanking his son’s soul from the edge of non-existence._

_**His** son? But I thought you said—_

_I think with all the times you so colorfully disowned me, that you should be aware family is more complicated than answering the question of which god sired which upstart, my boy—  
_

_I think I found him._

_Good. I like having the Chief Lector for a host._

* * *

His consciousness returned more quickly than his memories.

Basic things first. Percy remembered his name—

 _Perseus,_ a woman’s voice whispered, a familiar woman’s voice, one that made him relax and grieve at once, _His name. . .is Perseus Jackson._

—his cousins, Amos, Brooklyn House. Then the fight into the Hall of Ages. A mission to protect the First Nome. . . .no, _more_. It’d been important, but something else. Protecting someone. . .or fighting someone?

He tried to think past a woman with too many knives and panic and _war,_ but he got a blur that made his head hurt.

His head, which felt like it had been cracked open and stitched back together. So hurt even more, then.

His mind circled back to the cousins. Cousins. Magicians. _Kane._ He was one of them. _Perseus Jackson-Kane,_ like his driving permit said.

And it all came rushing back. Mostly.

What _had_ happened past the Hall of Ages? Percy rolled over—an action that required enough effort to almost make him fall back asleep. His whole body felt fragile enough to shatter.

With some gasped cussing, he sat up to see what kind of hospital wing he’d been dropped into. His vision blurred, and when it cleared, he saw a dark-haired girl barely older than him turning to yell down a hallway.

“He's awake! Someone alert the pharaoh and Chief Lector!”

It took Percy's foggy mind a minute to decipher what those titles meant. It took another embarrassing minute to remember what they had to do with _him._

He _did_ remember that Carter had been made pharaoh before. . .before what?

They’d beaten the rebel magicians. He remembered that, and judging by the fact that they all still existed, Apophis had been defeated.

He knew Carter had taken the throne and Amos was hosting Set and—lots of fighting. Bits and pieces of it floated through his mind, blurry photos out of context. Gods charging into battle. Zia as the Eye of Ra. Duat splintering. Nephthys being angry with him. Being _scared._

Before Percy could make sense of that, Carter rushed in. He skidded to a stop at the foot of Percy’s bed and stared; his face was unreadable.

Despite his own fatigue, Percy ran a critical eye over him. Carter looked how Percy felt—down to his bones, exhausted. Someone had clearly managed to put him through a shower and into some clean linens, but the way he was leaning on his staff and swaying in a non-existent breeze told Percy the truth.

In the face of awkward silence and Carter looking like he couldn’t believe Percy was there, Percy made the first move.

“Um. Hi?”

“Sadie’s going to kill you. And Zia,” Carter said abruptly, “Think Amos might be too relieved to kill you, but he’s been working up a speech for the last three days. I might jump the line. What the _hell,_ Percy.”

Percy winced. It hadn't been great, then. “I—three days? What did I _do?”_

“Yeah. And until your fever broke yesterday and the healers said you’d probably live, we spent two of those wondering if we should plan your funeral,” Carter said flatly, “Because you decided to at the last _gods-damned_ —wait. What did you _do?”_

Carter was confused, too. Great.

Percy shrugged, before groaning and clutching his right shoulder. “Yeah. Ugh. Yeah, it’s still all coming back, but I don’t remember much past. . .Zia fighting Apophis, you bringing in the gods, general world-ending things? Three of us went looking for the real Apophis in the Duat so he could get execrated.”

“You don’t remember. Gods of Egypt, of course you don’t. _Fuck,”_ Carter muttered, running a hand over his face, “Might be for the best. You got swallowed by Apophis and—”

“I _what_ with the giant snake now?”

Percy had been expecting something stupid. Percy had been expecting to hear someone was _dead,_ from how Carter had been acting.

“I. . .I’m sure it all made sense at the time? Is Zia okay?” Percy asked, his voice pitching up. It was weird, he was _fine,_ more or less, and it was all over, but real panic raced through him like he'd been hit by lightning, because if he had been eaten, eaten by a _giant fucking snake,_ then Zia, who had been hosting a god who was that snake's _arch-nemesis_ —

“Oh, Zia’s okay,” Carter said with a snort. Percy's heart stopped and re-started. “She’s been ready to blame herself if you died. But she’s okay.”

A memory of being caught in the eye of a storm of Chaos, Nephthy screaming in his head as Zia and Ra looked at him like he was nuts, replaced in Percy's mind's eye. He winced again. “So, Zia is fine, then, and I. . .”

“Managed to throw her back into the storm, decided to get swallowed by Apophis in her place, take thirty years off each of our lives, get brought back from. . . _wherever_ by Walt, and then spend a few days almost dying anyway because you nearly burned yourself up after breaking your connection with the only god willing to be inside your head?” Carter demanded, his voice raised and cracking.

Very busy guy, Percy's past self. ADHD and battle were always a great combo.

Still, the anger in Carter's words rubbed Percy the wrong way. “I didn’t _decide_ to do anything. Probably, I thought that it was a good idea to not have Ra swallowed by the embodiment of _Chaos_ , since prophecy is pretty clear that's game over for all of us, and between me and Zia, one of us was a lot more expendable than the other, man.”

“You. . .it was _prophecy._ It wasn’t about who was expendable, it was _prophecy.”_ Carter’s jaw looked like it might shatter from being clenched, and the way he'd begun to blink rapidly, as if fighting back tears, made Percy feel suddenly out of his depth.

“Yeah, well, I'm sorry. But I don’t care,” Percy said, honest and helpless in one. He figured trying to make Carter feel better would get him punched right now. “Prophecy and I don’t get along. Should it have been _her?”_

“No! Gods of. . . _no._ Just. . .” Carter trailed off, pressing his palms against his eyes before looking at Percy again. “I’m sorry. I was a bit unfair. I get why you did it. But it was too close, Perce. And for Horus’s sake, you have never been expendable to any of us. You’re family. We fight for each other.”

He walked over to sit on Percy’s bed with a heaving sigh, the Eye of Horus swinging from his chest as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders slumped. “It’s been a long three days.”

“Hey. I. . .I’m sorry for scaring you guys,” Percy shoved himself closer. He leaned against Carter, not trusting his ability to keep himself upright. “And I love you too, man. But I just. . .I _couldn’t._ I couldn’t not do something.”

“I know. I would have done the same if it had been me,” Carter admitted. Percy snorted; Carter had been in love with Zia for two years and had a protective streak a mile wide. “But. . .way, way too close. I don’t know what any of us would’ve done if Walt hadn’t had Anubis on speed-dial.”

“You’re saying that Ammit wouldn’t have just bullied me out of the Underworld?”

Carter gave a huff that might've been a laugh in other circumstances. “That dog despises you. You would have been back here before any of us could blink."

Percy groaned in offended annoyance. Maybe more dramatically than the joke warranted, but it helped get rid of that look in Carter’s eyes like he was expecting Percy to keel over any second.

And it was just as Carter was threw an arm around Percy’s shoulder that Sadie came running in, took one look at the two of them, and—for the first time in all the time Percy had known her—burst into tears.

Percy tried to stand up. Carter shoved him down with a gentle hand.

“Sadie, I. . .”

“You got swallowed by bloody Apophis,” Sadie gasped out, a mixture of hysterical laughter and sobs bubbling out of her. “Sweet Isis, you _idiot.”_

She walked over, plopped herself down next to Percy, and did her best to squeeze the breath out of him with a fierce hug, her tears hidden as Carter piled on. The three of them were so, so grateful to be alive. If it weren’t for the general need to breathe, Percy would’ve been happy to stay there until someone told Amos that Percy had rejoined the land of the living.

Or the fact that his chest were beginning to protest the affectionate abuse.

“Sadie,” he finally managed, “Getting swallowed by Apophis isn’t good for the ribs.”

Sadie let go. With her tears spent, a familiar angry look crossed her face, and Percy wished he could turn himself into something small and furry to hide.

Then again, Percy considered, the red eyes and lack of lectures on how his common sense couldn’t fill a teaspoon undercut her usual fearsome routine.

Too close, Carter had said.

“I’m going to kill you,” she informed Percy, “But only once you’re better and Amos gets to give his speech. ‘S not fair until then.”

“Oh. Thank you?”

* * *

Amos’s speech, as it turned out, was _very_ long, v _ery_ impressive, and referenced far too many of Percy’s embarrassing memories for his own liking. Having learned his lesson with Sadie and Carter, Percy spent the entire thing sitting on his bed in mostly-cowed silence. 

The fact that the speech wasn’t so much a _lecture_ , so much as Amos giving his own recounting of the whole _You somehow broke prophecy before spending three days on the edge of death, never scare us like that again_ saga.

Around the fifth minute and Amos working in a recount of when he took Percy with him to Russia and how Percy somehow managed to get from St. Petersburg to Yakutsk on his own, Percy resigned himself to a couple days of this. More or less. Didn’t mean he was going to _enjoy_ it, but the more he thought about it, the more Percy couldn’t honestly say if he would have been much better if it had been Carter or Sadie instead of Percy. 

A memory from his last moments in the storm flashed through his mind, of looking up Apophis, all alone beneath the dark sky, and he shuddered. _Yeah._ Worse. Definitely worse.

Around the tenth minute, Amos finally began to wind down. “As Chief Lector, you and your cousins are shining examples of what magicians should be, and I am proud. The Egyptian gods and quite possibly the world owes you a debt that can’t be repaid. As your guardian. . .”

“As my guardian, I’m grounded for eternity?” Percy guessed. 

Amos didn’t take the bait for the joke; a haunted look not too different from the aftermath of being possessed by Set passed over his face. The beginnings of guilt set inside Percy.

“As your guardian, seeing you like that was the most terrifying moment of my life,” Amos corrected quietly, his gaze somewhere far away, “I would very much appreciate it if you never did it again. It was too close for all of us.”

“Yeah. Sadie and Carter mentioned it.”

“I’m sure they have. It’s been. . .a few days that I would very much like to never relive,” Amos said after a moment, before shaking his head, his face clearing, “Anyway. The healers have said you should be discharged tomorrow, if all goes well. And—”

“—and I shouldn’t ever host a god again, unless I feel like exploding into flames,” Percy finished dutifully, “Carter and Sadie might’ve also mentioned that a dozen times. I do listen to all of you. Sometimes.”

Amos raised an eyebrow and fondly ruffled Percy's hair. “When you feel like it."

Percy batted his hand away, giving him a sheepish grin.

* * *

When the healers proclaimed him fit to see anyone other than immediate family later that day, Percy got the distinct impression Brooklyn House staged a battle royale outside his room over who got to see him first.

At least, if the muffled sounds of scuffling, swearing, penguins squawking, and Julian loudly grumbling about cheating were anything to go by.

Jaz came in first, slipping inside with a suspiciously smug air about her. It faded when her blue eyes landed on Percy.

He grinned in hello, and she nearly launched herself across the room to hug him tightly, nearly pushing him off the bed and onto the floor, and sending them both into the hysterical fits of laughter of two people who couldn’t believe they were still alive.

When she pulled away, she looked down at him determinedly with a strange gleam in her eye. Slowly, giving him more than enough time to pull away, she leaned down and—

She kissed him. 

It was a fast, fleeting thing. Just her cupping his cheeks and leaning down to gently kiss him before just as quickly pulling away.

As far as first kisses went, Percy thought in a daze, it wasn’t bad.

She followed it up with an apology. It didn’t help things. "I’m really sorry, Percy. It's just—we all thought you were dead. Then that you were going to die. It was. . .awful. And I ended up thinking a lot. And I ended deciding, maybe, well. . . _maybe._ If you're all right with it. To try."

Percy, on his part, was left struggling for a good deep breath. Coming back from the absolute, crumbliest, closest possible cliff-edge of death really knocked the breath out of a person, and he was still periodically left gasping for breath since he’d woken up. Kissing one of his prettier friends didn’t help.

“You’re. . .fantastic, Jaz. And anyone would be lucky to date you. But. . .I almost died, and the kiss was really nice, but I’ve never thought of you—” Percy waved his hand to substitute for words that escaped him.

“So. No?”

“No," Percy said, more firmly, as he realized that besides the fact that he had rarely, if ever, thought about her in the same fashion Carter did Zia, he just wasn't _ready._ "But. . .friends? Still?”

Jaz gave him a genuine smile, if one with a sad edge to it. “Yeah. I might need a bit of time, but I just—end of the world puts things in perspective, and all that. And you were the first friend I made after Tennessee. Helped me transition into who I really am. I thought it was worth a shot.”

Percy returned the smile, feeling so grateful it made his chest hurt. They were gonna be okay. Battle of Brooklyn House vets had to stick together, after all.

“It wasn’t that terrible, was it?” Jaz asked a moment later, rueful.

“No, it was nice. Really nice. But. . .I dunno. I’m not there yet. With you, or anyone else.”

“Good. And thanks for being honest.”

“Course. Though. . .” Percy trailed off as his mind circled back to her entrance, “In the spirit of being honest with each other. What exactly did you do to Julian to get in here first, and can you teach me how?”

Jaz’s smile turned wicked.

* * *

“Jaz kissed you, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You look like you were just swallowed by Apophis and spit out.”

“Hilarious. Cut a guy who almost died some slack, Walt.”

“Actually, uh, depending on how you define the term _dead—”_

“Walt? Anubis? Whoever. I think I can safely go the rest of my life without knowing what really happened.”

“Honestly? We feel the same. Too close, Percy.”

* * *

_Demigod._

Days later, back in Brooklyn House and in fighting form, that word kept ringing in Percy’s head. Where he had heard it from, he couldn’t remember, and he only had the one gap in his memories. He never had recovered all of them from fighting Apophis. For the best, he had figured. He already remembered enough of it to last a lifetime of nightmare material. But he couldn’t figure out where else that word had come from. And their libraries weren't particularly helpful.

So he shoved it into the back of his head. Kept going. They rebuilt Brooklyn House, and without a Chief Lector trying to kill them or a giant snake trying to end the world, the Twenty-First Nome grew. More initiates, some of them adults sent their way by Amos.

Carter and Zia split time between Egypt and Brooklyn, Zia helping Carter as he learned how to manage both holding the Egyptian throne and being a sixteen-year-old guy who attended the Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted. Sadie and Percy split duties heading up Brooklyn House, occasionally fighting monsters or trying to follow up on a possible lead as to where Setne had run off to, and. . .Percy was happy, for the most part.

It wasn’t like his life was empty or he needed to date someone. It was just. . .weird. Like he had forgotten to take something home with him.

_Demigod._

Months passed. They went back to school. Amos came home to Brooklyn for Christmas and Felix buried Brooklyn House in two feet of bright blue snow. Percy, Carter, and Sadie found the whole thing much funnier than the adults did. Bast managed a visit from wherever the gods lived in the Duat now, with Apophis gone. The older teenage initiates began to talk about graduation and college.

January approached. Carter and Zia returned to the First Nome. Percy became _de facto_ leader of Brooklyn House again.

After the Winter Solstice, his night terrors returned, vivid and terrifying and incomprehensible as ever.

Flying horses, strange gods who were far too human and capricious, a river of memory, a dark-haired boy screaming for his sister. Percy managed to ward his room to muffle the screaming.

January continued. Grew colder, much to Felix’s delight. Uncle Julius reached out to Amos, worried that no word had been gotten by anyone about Setne in months. The silence endured, but with the rebel magicians being rounded up, they began to look harder.

The nightmares grew worse. Percy caught himself staring over the river at Manhattan at least once a day, now. Still could never bring himself to say what, exactly, was bothering him.

One morning, he woke up, his head full of death and monsters he didn’t know and a maze that would never die, and that word was back in his head. The one their libraries had no definition for. Ringing as a warning. Or a call.

_Demigod._

Percy hauled himself out of bed, ate a quiet early breakfast with Cleo, grabbed his kit out of habit, and went for a run along the river to clear his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For the romantic shippers among us: I have a few ideas what it's going to look like. Jaz and Percy are being teenagers and testing the waters. That's it, right now. Also, Percy's still missing something. He's not ready for "the rest of his life" post-Apophis, for some mysterious reason that totally has nothing to do with an impending identity crisis.
> 
> Anyway. This two-shot was probably the most unnecessary necessary thing I've ever written (It was also supposed to be about 7K words, 8K _max,_ but we're not going there). There was some fun plot/characterization foreshadowing and beginnings, and I enjoyed writing it. Hope y'all enjoyed it, too.
> 
> As always, let me know what y'all think what you want, and sometime within the next week, I will post the first chapter of the story I have spent two years and nearly 60K words waiting to write. It'll be fun!


	3. UPDATE - SEQUEL'S UP

The next installment in this 'verse, _The Deepest Secret and the Stars Apart,_ in which a certain someone stumbles into a camp of the demigod kind, is now up, after two years and about sixty thousand words.

Thank you all for your support thus far, and I hope you enjoy it.


End file.
